Breaking Dawn: The Rewrite
by Natalie Elena
Summary: Title pretty much says it all. Breaking Dawn, rewritten with more realism. The story starts with Bella's phone call to Renee. I'm not promising pairings will stay stay together!


**Chapter one: The Phone Call**

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**_AN:_****_ Here's how I think Breaking Dawn might have went if the characters acted more realistically. I tried to stick to canon as much as possible with all my changing around. _**

**_Please don't flame me too horribly. _**

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Bella Swan stood in her kitchen, leaning against the counter, the telephone clutched tight in her hand. The plastic was warm and slippery from being held in her sweaty palm so tightly. She wound the stretched-out phone cord around her free hand as she listened to the phone ring. She wondered if maybe her mother wouldn't be home, unable to pick up the phone, and she could put off her obligation for one more day.

Ring.

But then, if her mother didn't answer, would she need to leave a message?

Ring. Ring.

And if the machine picked up, should she say what she needed to, or just ask her mother to call her back?

Ring.

She couldn't possibly tell her mother such big news through a message. Right?

Ring. Ring. Ring.

Did her mother even have an answering machine anymore?

Ring.

She should just hang up now. No one was there, and there was no answering machine. Her mother had probably gotten rid of it, and obviously no one was home, so she should just—

"Hello?" Came the slightly breathless voice of Renee through the phone.

Bella swallowed before answering. "Hi, Mom," Her voice sounded as nervous as she felt.

"Bella? Is everything okay?" Renee and Bella knew Bella only called if something important was going on. Otherwise, they e-mailed.

"Yeah, everything's fine. It's just—it's just, I have some news." She couldn't say it yet.

"Good news or bad news?" Her mother was slightly wary now.

"Well…that depends on how you…feel about it."

"Bella, just tell me what it is,"

"Mom, I'm…I'm—well, see, I'm probably going to—it's just I wanted to tell you that—I want to—I am—Uh, I'm getting—going to—well—" The phone cord was wound all the way around her elbow.

"Is it that you want to come home?" Her mother asked softly

"No! No, that's not it. It's just—I don't know how to say it…"

"Honey, just tell me. It can't be that bad, can it?"

Bella drew in a long breath. It didn't feel like enough air. "Mom I'm…going to…" She still couldn't finish it.

"Bella, you're scaring me. What's going on over there that you can't say?"

"I'm…getting…"

"What, a belly-button ring? A tattoo?" Her mother was getting impatient.

"No, no. Neither of those." It was funny how freely her mother said those words, like she wouldn't mind if Bella did those things. Yet Bella knew Renee would very much mind her actual news. It also made Bella wonder if she ever wanted a piercing or a tattoo. Not that it mattered now, since she'd already made her decision on things.

"Then what, Bella? Please don't make me keep guessing."

"Well, Edward and I, we…"

"Oh, you two didn't break up again, did you?" Renee sounded slightly panicked, probably remembering what had happened the previous fall. But she didn't know the whole story, Bella decided, so her panic wasn't that valid.

"No! We're happy together. That's, uh, part of it. Okay—I'm just going to say it. Mom we're…getting…married."

Bella let out a loud sigh, the lump in her chest dissolving. It felt good to finally say it. Everything was going to be fine, she'd told her mother. It was smooth sailing from here. But the lump slowly returned and got heavier when there was no answer from the telephone.

"Mom…?" Bella said uneasily.

Silence. The connection must have dropped. That's probably what happened, Bella thought. And now her mother was bubbling with happiness at the news, but unable to say anything, because the call had failed. And Bella needed to hang up the phone, because otherwise her mother couldn't call back with her gushing congratulations.

But Bella knew she was lying to herself. The connection was perfect. This was only backed up by the fact that her mother's low voice came through the phone perfectly the next moment.

"You're…getting married?"

"Yes," Bella answered in a small voice.

"Bella…" Bella knew that tone. It was the "I Just Don't Know What To Say To You" tone.

"Aren't you happy for me?" Her voice cracked on her last word, and her eyes stung. It shouldn't be so surprising, since she had expected her mother to react like this. But she knew she was secretly hoping her mother would be happy.

"Bella, please don't make the same mistakes I did,"

"But I'm not! Edward and I love each other, and we _want_ to get married." How could her mother not_ understand_? Granted, Renee didn't know everything, but Bella had to get married if she wanted to be changed. She'd made a deal, and she needed to stick to it.

"But do _you_ want to get married, honey? Not you and Edward, but just you. Do you?"

She hadn't, just a month ago. But the fact that she loved Edward combined with their deal had changed her mind. She wanted to get married. Why did her mother keep questioning her? "…Yes."

Her mother sighed into the phone. "I'm sorry Bella, but I don't think you're doing the right thing. You're much too young to be getting married. You're not even in your twenties."

"But you married Charlie at my age! Why are you being a hypocrite?" She asked, her voice getting higher.

"That's exactly why I don't want you getting married! Bella, you know I love you and I'm so happy I had you, but when I decided to marry Charlie and have you, I missed out on a whole lot of things! I didn't get to go to college the right way—I had to take night classes when you were a baby to get my teaching degree. I never got to live when I was younger. I had a baby when I was barely out of high school! I don't want the same for you. I didn't get that chance when I was in my twenties to learn about things, and decide what I really wanted to do with my life. When you're a teenager honey, everything feels like forever true love, but sometimes it isn't, and that's how you grow up."

Bella was crying freely now, tears pouring down her cheeks and dripping off her chin. "You don't get it! Edward and I are in love! We'll always love each other! It's different from you and Charlie. I'm not going to get pregnant or change my mind like you did!" Her voice hitched from her tears.

"Bella," Renee's voice was full of sadness. "I understand how you feel, because I felt the same way. There's no way to tell if it will work out, because it's the future. And I'm not even sure Edward is good for you. You nearly died when he left, sweetie, and when you came to visit just two months ago, you were attached to him at the hip. You need to remember you're your own person, Bella, and I want you to remember you're a strong girl who can get along by herself." There was a small sniffle.

Bella was furious. Burt she was also sad. She couldn't tell which emotion she felt more of—maybe it was a tie. "So, you won't come to the wedding?" She said softly.

"I'm sorry baby, no. I don't think you should throw your life away. I want you to be happy, but I also want what's best for you. And I feel this time those two aren't the same things." Renee seemed to force the words out.

Bella knew then, she was much angrier than she was sad. Her anger had simmered during the conversation, and now it boiled over. "Well, FUCK YOU!" She screamed, her voice raw. She surprised herself a bit—she barley cursed, especially to her parents. "I hate you and I don't care what you think is right because you're an awful mother and you don't care about me at all! FUCK YOU!"

And before Renee could answer, she slammed the phone back into the cradle. She stomped up the stairs, trying to stop crying, but every time she thought about what had been said, a fresh wave of tears poured down her face. She slammed her door with as much force as she could. But it wasn't enough, she was still steaming. She needed a physical outlet.

She walked over to her desk, where her photo album sat. The present from Renee was still mostly empty, save for a few pictures from the previous fall.

Holding it tight in her hands, she walked to the middle of her room and threw it hard at the wall. Of course, she missed, the album sailing straight at window, breaking the glass and falling down two floors to the ground. She gasped and ran to the window. Careful not to stab herself on the shards of glass still stuck on the window, she looked out. On the ground by the trunk of the tree in the front yard, the album sat, surrounded by broken glass.

With the feeling that her broken window was also her mother's fault, she collapsed onto her bed and shoved her face into a pillow. Nothing was going right today.


End file.
